"Andrew!" I squealed. My voice sounded loud in the small, quiet room. "Hey, there!"I caught Madeline giving me a look, perhaps disapproving of my outburst. Even the American couple that was consulting a guidebook, gave me a disapproving once-over. No one likes a loud American and I regretted my sudden excited outburst that shook the place. "Hey Tessy," Andrew said, as he approached my table. "How did it go at the nursing home?" Andrew must have returned to the flat, because I left him a note about my job-hunting mission. "Not so well. But I bought a paper to check the classifieds. Have a seat," I said, moving my purse and binder to clear a chair for him. "I'm so glad you're here. I was just thinking about you. How do you work this little contraption again?" I asked, motioning towards the tea strainer. Without sitting down, Andrew leaned over my table, efficiently placed the strainer over my cup with one hand, and poured from the silver pot with the other. "Have a seat," I said
Sprawled on Andrew's couch, half-asleep, waiting for Andrew with a pit in my stomach as I listened to a Norah Jones CD. Andrew came back and walked into the sitting room looking over at me with a concerned expression on his face. "What time is it?" I asked."Should be Ten," he said, standing over me. "Have you eaten?""Yes," I said. "You?" He nodded. "Where have you been?" I asked, feeling like a suspicious wife who just found a smear of red lipstick on her husband's starched white shirt. "Writing.""Sure you were," I said, trying to sound nonchalant and playful. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, motioning for me to move over and clear a space for him.I lifted my legs long enough for him to sit and then rested my feet on his thighs. "It means, were you really writing or were you hanging out with Capucine?" I asked in a sing-songy way that kids say, "Andrew and Capucine sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!""I really was writing," he said innocently. "How did you spend your
I phoned Mr Gibson this morning, the doctor Orla and Meg had recommended. Luckily for me, he has a cancellation in his morning schedule, so I took the Circle Line to Great Poland Street and followed my A to Zed to his office on Harley street, a block of beautiful, old town houses, most of which appeared to have been converted to medical offices.** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **I opened the heavy red door to Mr Gibson's practice and walked into a marble foyer, where a receptionist handed me a form to fill out and pointed to a waiting room with a fireplace. I don't know how long that I've been waiting when a plump, grandmotherly woman who introduced herself as Abigail, Mr. Gibson's midwife, told me to follow her into the waiting room and then, led me up a winding, grand staircase to another room that looks as if it should have been roped off in a museum.Abigail introduced me to my doctor as he rose behind his mahogany desk, stepped around it, and gracefully extended his hand. I stu
I walked all over town in a daze, the word *'twins'* drumming in my skull. I walked down to Bond street, then over to Marble Arch, then across to Knightsbridge. I kept walking until my lower back ached and my hands and toes grew numb. I stopped myself from going into a single store, no matter how tempting the window display is. I kept walking and not stopping till it started raining and I took a break at a Starbucks. I looked around Starbucks hoping its familiar burnt-orange-and-purple décor will offer me some sort of solace. But, it didn't. Nor did the hot chocolate and bagel I hungrily swallowed. The thought of having one baby is intimidating. I'm currently full-on scared. How will I be able to take care of twins—or even tell them apart? This is unbelievable!I left Starbucks and started walking all the way home, back to Andrew's flat. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** I arrived home, frozen and exhausted at three o'clock as the day is getting dark."Tessy? Is that you
I woke up with a fresh panic very early in the morning. I laid in the bed, thinking about my life and how to navigate the shocking news of yesterday from Mr. Gibson. How in the world am I ever going to manage twins? Would Andrew let us live with him? Will two cribs even fit in my tiny room? What if I couldn't find a job? I have less than two thousand dollars left in my account —barely enough to cover my hospital bills, let alone baby supplies, food, rent. "Alright Tessy Johnson, you have to remain calm. Stay focused on your list, and take things one day at a time," I said to myself. I'm going to find a job to raise money for me and my boys . . .** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **For almost one full week, I was all about the job hunt. I kept an open mind, diligently seeking any kind of work: high-minded jobs, jobs in PR, even menial jobs. I checked the papers, made phone calls, hit the pavement. Nothing turned up—except some disappointing findings regarding the difficulty of se
"Hello, darling! So nice to see you again," Meg said as she answered the door. She kissed me on my cheek and I noticed she is also wearing a black dress. What a relief, at least, I am dressed appropriately. "Great to see you too! Thanks so much for having me," I said, feeling myself relax.Meg smiled and introduced me to her husband, Noâm, a rail-thin, dark-skinned guy with an unusual accent. He took my coat and offered me a drink. "A glass of champagne perhaps?"I rested my hand on my stomach and politely declined. "How about a Perrier?" he asked. "That would be lovely," I said, as Meg led me into her living room.Her living room looks like a spread in a magazine. The ceilings are higher than any I have seen in a private residence—they must be at least sixteen feet high. The walls are painted a dark, romantic red. A fire is flickering in the fireplace, casting a soft light on the jewel-toned Oriental rug and dark, antique furniture. Faded hardcover books filled the shelves that l
Quentin called me in the afternoon to prove that he is man enough not to subscribe to any silly waiting games. Or perhaps only American men make you wait. Well, Quentin said that he enjoyed my company and would love to see me again. Honestly, his candor is immensely attractive, which in turn made me feel I have matured.I shared my observation with Andrew as he stood at the stove making us fried eggs and bacon for dinner. Andrew and I loves breakfast foods any time of the day. In fact, one of the few things that Andrew and I agreed on in high school was that going to IHOP after football games was a better choice than the infinitely more popular Taco Bell. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds like you might be ready for a real, healthy relationship.""As opposed to pursuing someone like Jon?" I asked. He nodded. "Jon was all about rebellion." He flipped one egg with a spatula and then probed gently at the yolk of the other. "You subconsciously knew Max was wrong for you, so you cheated on him t
Quentin took me to dinner at The Ivy Cafe, one of the most popular restaurants in London. The head chef is a friend of Quentin's, so we had a tasting menu prepared especially for us, followed by a magnificent slice of flour-less chocolate cake for dessert, and some very expensive port for Quentin.Elle MacPherson and her husband sauntered in for a late reservation. They sat one table over from us. As we waited for our bill, I caught Quentin inspecting her, and then glancing back to me as if comparing us feature to feature. "What are you thinking?" I asked."You truly are prettier than she. I much prefer your eyes," he said, smiling lovingly at me. I blushed lightly. "You are more handsome than Elle MacPherson's husband too," I replied as I admired his facial features and stared seductively into his eyes. Handsome is the right word for Quentin's look. He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. "What do you say we go back to my place?"Finally, this is the time to find out